The warm bath water gently rippled in the small plastic tub placed in the backyard. Tiny Ricky, the baby monkey, sat alone inside it—his soft fur damp, his round eyes filled with worry. The bubbles didn’t excite him. The soft sponge nearby didn’t calm him.
Because Mommy… wasn’t there.
He looked around, his tiny hands splashing nervously. The moment he realized she hadn’t come to bathe him like usual, his lips quivered.
“Maaahhh!”
A sharp little cry escaped him.
Then another.
Louder. Sadder.
Ricky reached toward the air with both arms, desperate for the familiar hug, the gentle strokes, the soft humming Mommy always gave during bath time. But the backyard stayed quiet. She was inside, cleaning—just for a few minutes.
To Ricky, it felt like forever.
Tears mixed with bathwater as he leaned forward, his tiny chest rising and falling with soft sobs. He wasn’t scared of the water. He was scared of being alone.
Just then, the door creaked open.
“Ricky?” Mommy called, wiping her hands with a towel.
His head shot up, eyes wide with hope—and instantly, he cried even louder, this time in relief.
Mommy rushed over, dropping to her knees beside the tub. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry! I’m right here.”
She scooped him up in her arms, water dripping from his tiny body. He clung to her neck, nuzzling under her chin, still sniffing but calming fast.
“I’ll never leave you alone again, not even for one second,” she whispered, rocking him gently.
Ricky didn’t care about the soap or the bubbles anymore. All he wanted… was Mommy’s arms.
And now, he had them again.
